


Nail Polish and Kisses

by shinguji



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (it’s Rantaro’s perspective if that isn’t obvious), Because I’m procrastinating on my Korekiibo project, Emetophobia, It’s mentioned in like three sentences but yeah, I’m terrible at tagging stuff, M/M, Mentions of blood and scars, Piercings, This fic was started months before that one though, Trans Amami Rantaro, Vague Mentions of Self-Harm, finger-sucking, first person POV, mentions of vomit, nipple stuff, nsfw obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinguji/pseuds/shinguji
Summary: Rantaro paints his nails and gets a little bit carried away.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Nail Polish and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags for possible content warnings, just in case, and keep in mind that this is very NSFW! Other than that, I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave feedback!

“There, all done,” I sighed, unlocking my now-cramped knees and standing up, observing the mess I had made on the bathroom floor. There were smears of nail polish painted directly on the white tiles from when I had made mistakes or just wanted a swatch, bottles scattered half-open across the rug, used nail file sheets, glitter and rhinestones now practically permanently embedded into the grooves of the tile, and disgusting fingernail clippings I knew I would need to sweep up later.  _ Eww. _

Kiyo, who was sitting on the toilet (with the seat closed and his clothing on, of course; only using it for a seat), glared down at the pathetic state of the restroom. “How did you even manage all of…” he paused, gesturing at the mess in disgust with a bandaged hand that I had painted all over. “All of  _ this _ ?”

The wreckage was a bit sad, and I dreaded the thought of having to clean it up later, so I decided to stall for as long as possible. “You’re the one who looks like a mess,” I retorted, looking up and down his arms. I had gotten carried away while waiting for the nail polish on my dominant hand to dry, so I had scribbled over Kiyo’s bandages in obnoxious shades of neon.

“Certainly. And whose fault is that?” he replied in a mocking tone, trying to look serious but failing to hide the obvious smirk that grew behind his mask. Looking down at his arms and the neon green smiley faces, stick figures, and hearts that lined them, he shuddered. “I will need to remove these immediately. You have not seen me without these bandages on, correct?”

My eyes widened a bit. I always assumed he was hiding some terrible dark secret, like scars inflicted by that awful sister of his, or something embarrassing, like having tiny hands or regrettable knuckle tattoos. In fact, I didn’t think that he would ever willingly show me his arms and hands, and it’d only ever happen by mistake on the day of our wedding (not that that would ever happen) or something outrageous like that. I shook my head and kneeled on the bathroom floor again. “Uh, no, I haven’t.”

He nodded. “Unfortunate that I must reveal them to you now, when you are so focused on your standards for nail beauty,” he sighed, unraveling the soiled bandages from the elbow down and discarding them directly into the trash can. “My hands and fingernails specifically are not… as presentable as the rest of myself, so naturally I conceal them. My apologies for making this into such a spectacle.”

It was embarrassing to even admit to myself, but I couldn’t help but be captivated by every new centimeter of pale skin that he revealed. A barely visible birthmark ran up the side of his left forearm, but he did his best to turn it away from me regardless of how unnoticeable it was. Despite not having any sorts of blemishes on his face, his arms were dotted with the occasional freckle. His wrists were thin and knobby, and the bandages leading up to his fingertips took much longer to remove. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t just rip through them, but he kept looking down at me with a bit of paranoia in his eyes… maybe he just wanted my reaction? I was certain that his nails couldn’t be that horrendous, though, and even if they were, I wouldn’t be angry about it. Why was he so concerned with my opinion?

His fingers were slender and bony as well, pale as the rest of his skin, save for red scars on the knuckles of his right hand, as if they had been bloody and skinned from punching something or falling down. His left thumb appeared almost swollen, covered with scar tissue and rows of small holes that looked almost like hundreds of tiny snake bites. I decided it wise not to press him about it.

By the time my gaze reached his nail beds, I could tell that he had definitely not been exaggerating. They were ripped up and swollen, bloody and chewed to complete ruin. The edges of his fingernails were jagged and torn, most of them misshapen and gnawed down to a painful-looking length. “Kiyo…”

He frowned beneath his mask and cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes. I placed my hand beneath his palm and lifted each of his fingers by the pad, examining them while trying to keep a straight face. He squirmed a bit when my index finger grazed the holes on his thumb, and I quickly let it go. He recoiled and crossed his arms over his chest, burying both of his hands in the opposite elbows. “I tend to pick at them when I am nervous. It’s a terrible habit, I am aware. The staple punctures on my thumb were much worse by comparison, though, so it is much better for me to bite my nails.”

The fact that those holes on his thumb were self-inflicted was a bit worrisome, but I didn’t want to fawn over them; he seemed bothered by any time I took notice of the holes. “I can do my best to file and paint them if you’d like that,” I said quietly, not sure of how to properly comfort him in this situation. “I’m not sure if it’ll help, but making them look nicer might keep you from wanting to pick at them. Then you could even grow them out! I think you’d look nice with longer nails.”

He chuckled almost silently, more like a hiss than laughter. “I like having short nails,” he said, smirking again.

What exactly was he trying to imply here? I narrowed my eyes at him. “Eww, horny bastard,” I complained jokingly. Kiyo and I had been unofficially dating for a few weeks, but we had never really confirmed anything with each other, and we had certainly never done anything remotely sexual, nothing more than the occasional flirtatious joke or short, unspoken kisses.

“I am absolutely not. Some people simply like having shorter nails because they’re more convenient,” he replied with closed eyes, shaking his head at me, arms still crossed tightly. A single eyelid fluttered open as Kiyo smirked at me, as if he was laughing at his own feigned innocence. Both he and I knew the real intent behind his words, but I wasn’t sure why he was implying such things so suddenly…

I chuckled at his words, ignoring the warm, heavy sensation that was already spreading in my stomach, radiating up to my chest. “It sounds to me like you’re still trying to convince yourself that you’re a top, though.”

He teasingly gasped at me, feigning shock. “Such depravity… and for the record, I am a switch.”

For some reason, his words made me blush. I didn’t expect such boldness from him when it came to this sort of topic, although I wasn’t complaining. “Maybe so, but you’re still a sub,” I taunted. 

Narrowing his eyes at me, he smirked under his mask. “Oh? Do not be so sure,” he hissed, grabbing my hand by the wrist and pulling it up to observe my freshly painted fingernails. “Hmm, how pretty…”

“Aah, hold on!” I shouted, suddenly overcome with nervousness. “Don’t get any weird ideas… I just painted these.”

“Hmm? I can’t hear you,” he sang lowly with a hushed laugh, unzipping the slit in his mask and pressing his tongue against the pad of my middle finger. I yanked it away quickly, my heart beating fast with anxiety. “Are your nails really so important to you?”

I glared at him, blowing on my fingernails. “You  _ not  _ ingesting wet nail polish and glitter is also important to me! I don’t wanna call poison control because you decided to be a power bottom and do… whatever you’re trying to do here!”

“Fine,” he said sadly, running his scarred thumb over my palm before dropping my hand and letting it fall to my side.

_ Wait, is he really just going to leave it like this?  _ I thought. I wasn’t exactly into this sort of thing, but he couldn’t just start something so much more… blatantly sexual than usual and then completely ignore it! 

Inhaling quickly and trying my best to be bold, I reached out to his hand, my rapid pulse almost audible. Were we really going to do something like this so early? On my gross bathroom floor?

“Oh? I do not—”

I cut him off by lifting his hand, squinting, trying not to blush or drop it out of nervousness. He looked at me blankly for a moment before hissing out strangled laugh. “Cute.”

Even though we were both sitting down (he had lowered himself onto the floor with me at this point), I felt my knees grow weak at his words. In any other context I would have deemed it condescending and demeaning, but I liked that he called me cute. I had never heard him call anything cute before. “Uh, thank y—mhnf!?”

Still smiling teasingly at me, he pressed his thumb between my lips and parted them, the pad of this thumb just barely brushing against my teeth. “It was my turn to cut  _ you  _ off,” he hummed, satisfied.

Instinctively, I squirmed a bit at the touch, hoping Kiyo wouldn’t notice me pressing my legs together. “Stop that,” he said tersely, placing his free hand on my thigh in a poor effort to stop my movement. It only made me writhe more, and he narrowed his eyes at me, his smug grin shadowed and barely visible through the unzipped slit of his mask. “I meant what I said. Stop.”

_ It’s hard to stop when the way you’re bossing me around is making it worse!  _ I thought, embarrassed and ashamed of myself for having so little self-control. 

He leaned forward and, brushing my hair behind my ear with his free hand, pressed a teasingly light kiss to my ear, whispering, “Is this alright? I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, so please tell me at any time if you wish to stop. It will not offend me, I assure you. Your comfort is far more important than my pleasure, yes?”

I nodded slowly, slightly, hardly moving my head. It was too busy swimming with embarrassment and hypotheticals, faint daydreams of what might happen next. 

Kiyo continued to hover next to my ear. “Use your words,” he commanded condescendingly with a tinge of laughter in his voice.

“Yeah… this is fine,” I managed around the thumb still against my teeth. My usual nonchalance had been completely abandoned by this point, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  _ I should stop acting so embarrassed and just let it happen,  _ I thought.  _ This is nice. Really nice. _

My conscience and perpetually quickening heart rate, however, wouldn’t allow it. I was still blushing up a storm and making futile attempts to rub my legs together.

He pressed down on my closed teeth slightly, as if threatening to pry them open with only his thumb, his jagged nail just below my gumline.

He eyed me cautiously. “Are you certain? Do not agree if you are uncomfortable, please,” he reminded me with a hint of concern.  _ He’s really worried about my comfort,  _ I realized.

“Yeah. This is nice,” I replied almost silently, not meeting his contemplative gaze. I swallowed thickly. “I’m fine… with anything.”

“My, my,” Kiyo mused sarcastically, pulling his face away from my cheek and pressing his thumb between my teeth without a shred of resistance on my behalf. “Anything? How fun…”

Using his palm and other fingers, he cupped my cheek and chin, running his thumb along my bottom teeth. I instinctively retracted my tongue so as not to touch his thumb prematurely. Even with his finger exploring my mouth, I felt as though I needed to remain modest, for some reason.  _ This really is making me all shy and submissive, huh?  _

“Say ‘ahh,’” he said jokingly, as if he were a dentist, slowly pulling his thumb away from my teeth and dragging it down my bottom lip.

I swallowed the few shreds of pride that had somehow remained up until this point and opened my mouth widely as he had ordered, doing my best to keep my breathing from growing too shaky and erratic. I let my tongue loll out onto my lip just a bit, barely grazing the cracked skin on the tip of his thumb. “Ahh…” I mimicked, although it was a bit too breathy, bordering on a whimper.

Shuddering almost imperceptibly at the display, Kiyo sighed and leaned into me, pressing a kiss against my lips, which I promptly closed again, his thumb sandwiched between our mouths. “My apologies. I couldn’t resist,” he explained briefly, looking ever so slightly flushed beneath his unzipped mask. “Too pretty…” he muttered.

After a brief moment of silence—just looking at each other in awe, taking in our situation (or whatever it could be considered), Kiyo cleared his throat and refocused his attention on my mouth, letting his fingertips hover before my lips.

“Ahh,” he reminded me, returning to his initial task. With less hesitation this time, I parted my lips and licked them, carefully watching for Kiyo’s reaction. He maintained his coy smirk even after I whispered out another “ahh,” letting his fingertips waltz over my bottom lip.

Eventually, he traced his middle and index fingers over my tongue, and I closed my mouth around them, effectively soliciting a sharp, surprised inhale from him, nearly a gasp.

The soft skin of his knuckles squished beneath my touch, my tongue piercing dragging it along. The cold metal contrasted with the heat of my mouth, and Kiyo sighed again with each swirl of my tongue.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, momentarily turning my head to breathe the words against my ear. “Just stunning.”

I felt like I was going to explode.

The entire situation was just so… lewd. Kiyo was towering over me, calling me beautiful, shivering at the sight of me with his fingers in my mouth: he was the beautiful one, and, embarrassingly enough, it was becoming harder and harder to contain myself.

My pulse throbbed steadily between my legs as I smiled around his fingers. He held my cheek with his other hand and turned my face again to make eye contact, grinning back at me. 

His fingertips grazed the points of my teeth, and I could just barely taste the bittersweet saltiness of his skin… I wanted more. Inhaling and trying to build up the confidence, I moved his fingers between my lips and sucked on the tips carefully, sliding them in and out chastely, looking down at my lap and trying not to meet his gaze. I never had much humility to begin with, but in a situation like this, practically everything embarrassed me.

Kiyo exhaled loudly and quickly clasped his free hand over his mouth. I loved making his usual composure waver… maybe I could still turn this around and prove a point.

With each suck, I moved my head forward a bit more, gradually reaching his major knuckles. Gently, he pressed his fingers against my tongue. I could feel them sliding down the back of my tongue at their full extent, threatening to gag me. 

I could feel myself starting to gag more and more with each passing second, but I carefully suppressed the urge and instead pulled my head back slightly. I didn’t exactly want to ruin this by gagging or, worse, vomiting.

My teeth pressed into his skin a bit as I made an effort to smirk proudly him around the two fingers in my mouth. He simply squinted at me in reply. “I see you’ve attempted to take control of the situation, y-yes?” he managed feebly, not quite meeting my eyes and instead staring at my mouth intently. “I’m… afraid I cannot allow this,” he whispered harshly, in the same hissing tone as before.

Clearly he was regaining his composure and becoming more assertive again. A part of me was totally into it and willing to listen to everything he had to say, but another wanted to watch him struggle to find words and fluster him into a rare blushing mess.

Squinting back at him slyly, I gingerly placed my hands over his, slowly drawing his fingers away from my mouth. I pulled them down my bottom lip again, flicking my tongue between them as I let them fall from my lips, pressing a short kiss to his bruised index finger.

He looked at his fingers incredulously for a moment, his skin slick and nails shiny with my saliva. Satisfied with myself, I smiled up at him. “I was right.”

He paused for a moment, scrutinizing me with shaky eyes. “Hmm?” he asked finally, swallowing audibly. 

“You  _ are  _ a sub,” I declared proudly, earning me an even deeper blush from Kiyo. While I was somewhat correct, and I did love making him blush, the dominance he displayed earlier made me practically melt. This was simply a ruse to earn more of that. Usually he wasn’t the type to let teasing affect him, but maybe… 

Surely he knew exactly what I was trying to do, but decided to go along with it anyway, because he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, tilted my ear to his mouth once more, and whispered, “Wrong.”

“Heh, I doubt—glhk!” I choked, cut off by his fingers hastily wedged back into my mouth and slammed down the back of my throat. His major knuckles were at my lips, his fingers reaching as far as possible, and he made a few more short thrusts before yanking them out just as quickly, a strand of saliva stretching from my tongue to the pad of his index finger before he thrusted them in again.

I dug my still-wet fingernails into my thigh, the nail polish staining my pant leg. I wanted to focus on how terrifyingly, horribly, painfully amazing this was, but the only thought going through my head was,  _ Please don’t vomit, please don’t vomit, please don’t vomit…  _

Even swallowing back the rising acid to the best of my ability, I could still feel the stinging in my nose. I looked up at Kiyo helplessly and he only smirked at me vengefully, making no effort to slow down. Did he really want me to embarrass myself like this? It would just be disgusting for the both of us.

Resolving not to let him make me throw up, I pulled my head back. Now he seemed to recognize the desperation in my eyes, and he let me go. “What the hell?”

“My apologies. It was ever so enticing, the way your throat was contracting and tightening around me…” he trailed off, shuddering. “The tears gathering in your eyes were so human, so beautiful…”

I pouted at him. “You tried to gag me and and make me puke.”

“Hmm… it would have been ever so beautiful if you did,” he remarked slyly. Although he was clearly talking about the human aspect of it all, more of his anthropological ramblings, it was still gross.

“Eww,” I teased.

We sat in silence for a moment. I drank out of the crinkled plastic water bottle next to me, trying to suppress the burning sensation and bile taste from earlier. Kiyo scrutinized me, looking over my body and face with curious eyes. “Hmm?” I asked through a mouthful of water.

He pondered for a moment before returning his gaze to my mouth. “It is nothing of importance.”

I didn’t exactly want to leave things there, but I still felt too humiliated from almost vomiting to make a move. I swallowed. “Uhm, alright, well—”

Cutting me off yet again, Kiyo placed his wet index and middle fingers on either one of my collarbones, moving them up slightly to press into the base of my neck, right into my jugular notch. Accidentally crinkling the bottle in my hand, I whimpered instinctively at his cold touch, and the sound alone made Kiyo’s eyes light up deviously.

He dragged his hand down to the bottom hem of my shirt, lowering his head as he did so, and looked up at me expectantly. My brain could only produce one thought:  _ Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.  _ Was this really happening?

Nervously, I nodded in affirmation, and he inched forward until he was almost in my lap. He dragged my shirt up, almost painfully slow, scraping his wet fingernails against my stomach as he pulled it over my head. 

He pressed his chest closer and closer to mine, slipping his fingertips beneath my binder, eyeing me again for reassurance. I whined at the gesture and nodded again, almost frantically this time. 

Smiling at me with satisfaction in his eyes, he pulled it away, as well, and stared at me in silent awe for a moment. He hummed, content, brushing the back of his hand across my chest, each knuckle grazing my nipples. 

The crumpled water bottle in my hand quickly fell to the floor. I bit down on my lip to muffle the needy little sounds that were building up in my throat, but he suddenly squeezed my nipple between his sticky fingers, and I couldn’t help but sigh loudly. “Haa…” 

For a moment, he dropped his hands to my thighs, toying with the waistband of my pants but not actually pulling them down. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he just leaned down into me and firmly pressed his lips against mine, licking my teeth as he pushed my head against the wall, moving one hand behind it in an effort to protect me from hurting my head.

He pulled his lips away for a moment only to slip a finger into my mouth, two, three, and quickly both of his hands were prying my lips wide open as he worked his fingers to the back of my throat. I eagerly sucked on them again, although a part of me wanted more.

As he pulled his fingers out and pressed his cold, wet left index finger against my nipple, he let the other hand hang in front of my open mouth, skin wet and shiny with my saliva, scarred and bloody and so tempting.

It was all too much. As much as I loved all of the kinkiness and the teasing… it had to stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed things to start going faster or I would go insane. “I want…” I trailed off, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he commanded breathily against my ear. “Out loud.”

If my entire face wasn’t bright red before, it surely was now. _ Do I really have to?  _ I wondered. He really wanted to see me embarrassed, huh? “I… I’d rather s-suck on something else,” I admitted coyly, not looking up to meet Kiyo’s eyes. 

“And what would that be?” he asked curiously, feigning ignorance. 

_ You know exactly what that would be, you bastard,  _ I thought, frustrated. “Your…”

Smirking, he leaned down so his face was inches from mine. “Hmm? My what?” he asked, pressing closer to me.

“Dammit…” I whined. I balled up my fists, trying to gather confidence, and met his eyes with a desperate glance. “Let me suck your dick!” I yelled, louder than I should have. I panted heavily for a moment, my head swimming. “Please.”

Kiyo’s eyes widened as he pretended to be scandalized, although his face did genuinely redden a bit. “Oh! How forward, Rantaro!” he joked. “Although… the offer is tempting,” he murmured, his fingers drumming on my chest and waltzing over my nipple again. I pushed into the touch, desperate, needy, almost writhing beneath his fingertips.

Watching the way I squirmed beneath him, Kiyo laughed sinisterly, almost a giggle, and, slowly, ground his hips against my bare stomach. 

That was it. “ _ Mhngk! _ ” I let a strangled noise escape from the back of my throat, making a poor attempt to muffle it by throwing my hands over my mouth. 

“Now, do not cover up your mouth like that. I feel honored to have the pleasure of simply looking at it,” Kiyo remarked, pressing himself firmly against my thighs and wiggling around a bit, soliciting more whimpers from me in the process. “And do not bother muffling your pretty moans, either. I would  _ love  _ to hear a  _ lot  _ more of them… be as loud as you’d like…”

“Please,” I repeated with mounting desperation, unable to choke out any other words. 

He let out an amused, shaky breath and ground himself against me again. “Hmm?”

“Haa, don’t… ignore me! Let me… suck your d—”

Kiyo pressed me against the bathroom wall again, kissing me through the open slit in his mask. The zipper snagged roughly against my upper lip as he sucked at my tongue teasingly, slowly running his tongue against the cool metal of my piercing.

As he pulled away, some drool spilled down my chin, and I made a weak, hasty effort to wipe it away before he cut me off again. “Goodness, I cannot let you do that, can I?” he cooed, overly sweet: intentionally teasing me. “It would make such a mess of the lovely tile. And your nails still are not dry, are they?”

“It’s okay,” I responded weakly. “Don’t need my hands to…” I trailed off, expecting him to cut me off again. He did not, but I was too weak to say something so embarrassing anyway.

“Hmm, this bathroom is already so  _ messy _ . It would be a shame to make it worse. Let us abstain then, yes?” he suggested, grinning wildly behind his mask. His eyes were squinted with amusement, and, slowly, he pulled his hands away from me and left me on the floor by myself, perching on the edge of the closed toilet seat.

I frowned at that.  _ He’s not really leaving, is he? _ I wondered.  _ No, you’re supposed to let me suck your dick, and then maybe you help me out, too, and then we lie on the tile floor and talk about our relationship status and start officially dating! And then we kiss!  _ “Really?” I groaned.

He chuckled at my obvious frustration. “My apologies. I merely wish to save some for later.”

“Later? How much later? All that… oral stuff lasted for so long! Now  _ is  _ later! It’s been later for like… at least fifteen minutes,” I complained jokingly. Some of the frustration was genuine, but I could never really be mad at Kiyo. But I still wanted… 

Leaning down to pluck my shirt and binder off of the floor, still wet with nail polish and saliva, he threw my clothing into my lap. “Ah, the tension was so beautiful. And so is your annoyance,” he laughed.

“Hmph. I take it back. I  _ won’t  _ suck your dick later, whenever that is. It’s my revenge.”

He watched in silence for a moment as I reluctantly put my clothing back on. The resolution of my first… sexual encounter with Kiyo was rather anticlimactic, and a part of me hoped this was another ruse to catch me off-guard later tonight, but that didn’t seem to be the case. “Well, before later comes, we ought to clean this bathroom as we intended to do from the start, yes?”

“Yeah,” I sighed, standing on weak legs. Between them was a spot that still ached desperately, but I willed the want away as I knelt again to pick up the nail polish bottles littering the floor. Faint red lines in the shape of little square tiles lined my arms from being firmly pressed against the floor and walls. 

Kiyo was scrubbing the floor intently, mopping up drool and polish that had seeped into the grooves of the tile. With disgust, he swept a few stray nail clippings into a dustpan and promptly disposed of them.

“Hey, Kiyo?” I started, a bit nervous. “Are we d—”

“Yes,” he replied quickly, knowingly. “Rantaro, we have been on dates, kissed more than once, and now we have this experience to add to our ever-expanding list. Of course we are in a relationship. I find it laughable that you even question this.”

My eyes widened a bit at the confirmation. Letting my shoulders fall, I exhaled heavily: a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool. Cool.”

He laughed at my concern. “And now that you are aware of the status of our relationship, we can do such things again, correct? So ‘later’ can wait until, say… tomorrow? A week from today? Even longer?”

I blushed down at the floor. So… this was going to become a common occurrence? And he was going to make me wait for it until I was practically begging? “Sure.”

Turning around to catch his lips with mine, I smiled into his mouth, my skin snagging on the zipper of his mask. He pulled away quickly. “Oh, no, you’ll have to wait until later if you want to touch me at all.”  
  


_ Damn him…  _ “You’re evil,” I lamented, turning back to clean the floor beside him in an awkward yet comfortable silence. 

My nails were absolutely ruined. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Again, feel free to leave any feedback you’d like! (Also, sorry for the shameless plug, but my fic requests are open! Send any requests to shingujiao3@gmail.com, and read my profile for additional information.)


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